


Touch of Gray

by write_light



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comment Fic, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-18
Updated: 2010-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/write_light/pseuds/write_light





	Touch of Gray

_poink_

 _No you don't, God. Not here, not now, not yet. Not when your sons are still trying to wear us. Not when you gave Sammy that lush head of wavy locks FUCK I wish my hair looked half that good!_

"Dean!" Sam banged on the door once, then opened it, their usual policy.

Dean flicked the tweezers casually, knowing they'd vanish into his kit, Sammy none the wiser.

What Sam saw was Dean, staring at him the way he'd looked that time Sam caught him jerking off in the shower, a cool, "I'm not doing that" dismissiveness.

What Sam _heard_ was something like _ting_ _clang_ _clitter-clatter-clitter-clatter_ as the tweezers became, on their downward journey, first a tuning fork, then a clapper striking the bell of the porcelain sink, then a lid that won't stop rattling faster and faster till it suddenly subsided into deafening silence.

Dean kept staring. He'd think of something to say soon. Soon.

"Were you ... plucking your eyebrows?" Sam ventured hesitantly, pretty sure this was new territory for both of them.

"NO!" Dean overcompensated.

Sam bent and picked up the tweezers, to which the littlest traitor - Dean's first gray hair - clung tenaciously.

Sam gave it a really, really close look, then his eyes locked on his brother's face.

"You know, Dad-" Sam began, but Dean whipped the tweezers from his hand and jammed them back in his kit.

"I am not Dad."

"You can't fight what's in your genes. He was going gray at your age, his beard anyway."

"I am not gray. -ing. I'm not graying," he said awkwardly. "I don't have any gray hairs."

"Yeah, well not now," Sam laughed, delighted at Dean's discomfort over something so... superficial.

"No Sammy, it's Grecian Formula™ this week, and I'll start the Rogaine™ next week, and pretty soon I'll look like our grand-dad, no matter what."

"You forgot Hair Club for Men™."

"Bitch."

Dean shoved his way past Sam and out into the motel room.

"I liked the way Dad looked, gray like that," Sam said, his voice bearing a softer, wistful edge that Dean recognized. It calmed him. And then Sam took a good thing too far: "It doesn't make you less, Dean. Not for me."

"New topic, Sam. You pick. 'When are you gonna get a haircut?' or 'How many stakes do we need to bring tonight to wipe out the whole vamp nest?'"

Sam was silent a long while.

"Seven stakes." _Jerk._


End file.
